


I want to contribute to the chaos

by usablehoney



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dani and Dani/Aubrey are only mentioned, Gen, Kepler's First Annual Midnight Art Exhibition, Light Angst, Vandalism as an outlet for turbulent feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usablehoney/pseuds/usablehoney
Summary: Anxious? Overwhelmed? Feuding with your local stunt gang? Don't know what to do about your new crush? Your friends died? Try vandalism!
Relationships: Dani/Aubrey Little, Hollis & Aubrey Little
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	I want to contribute to the chaos

The night air urges Aubrey out into the streets sometimes. 

There are times, in the dead of night at Amnesty Lodge, when her lungs feel tied up, and she bites her lower lip until it bleeds. Her head fills with panicky, half-formed thoughts, and her sheets twist around her like branches, like claws, like water, dragging her down, down, down. 

These nights are infrequent, but when they come around, there’s really only one thing for them; Acts of spontaneity. When her head feels like a prison, Aubrey just _leaves_.

She sits on the front steps of Amnesty Lodge, lacing up her boots. She is bundled up under a turtleneck, t-shirt, denim jacket, and scarf, but the bite in the air, the dying breath of winter, isn’t lost on her; It makes her feel more alive.

Quietly, Aubrey hefts a brown messenger bag over her shoulder; The weight is comforting, and the contents of the bag rest solidly against her side. Excitement courses through her veins, overriding the swirling dread she had been drowning in just minutes ago in her bedroom. She walks briskly and quietly down the long dirt road into the heart of Kepler, unable to keep the smallest of excited smiles off her face. 

\---

Anyone can have a sensitive side; Your hardass science teacher, the old man who lives down the street that never smiles, or the young, punk leader of a stunt gang, who rides a motorcycle, and only wears black leather.

Hollis fits into the last category, and those that know them well enough _can_ confirm that Hollis has a sensitive and artistic side, which they don’t have trouble showing off every now and again. 

So it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that Hollis is spending one of their Friday nights at a community art project. _Kepler’s First Annual Midnight Art Exhibition,_ is what it said on the flier, in a bold font _. Fill the blank spaces of Kepler with art!_

When Hollis first saw this advertisement, they had smirked slightly, because _“filling the blank spaces of Kepler with art”_ was something they already did pretty frequently. Except, most of the time, it was called “graffiti,” and “a legal misdemeanor.” 

However, Hollis didn’t want to turn down an opportunity to do something that brought them joy (without the usual threat of legal consequences). So, at 11:30 PM, they showed up to one of the large concrete walls under a bridge in Kepler, with a backpack full of spray paint bottles, a thermos of black coffee, and a heart full of turbulent feelings.

\---

The world around them is alive, and Hollis takes in the sounds of Kepler’s starving, sleepless artists, each of them finding their space on the long expanse of grey concrete, and chatting loudly as they set up to begin their pieces. 

Hollis opens their backpack to begin their own piece. The first thick line they paint onto the wall rewards them with the acrid smell of spray paint, at which they have to stop themself from gagging. Hollis has no qualms about breathing in spray paint fumes from a medical standpoint, but that smell never gets much better. 

_Black, yellow; white, blue; Black, yellow, white, blue._ Hollis works themselves into a perfect rhythm, listening to the rattle of their spray paint cans as they lay the skeleton of their art project onto the concrete wall. However, their harmonious start to a long night of work is interrupted, as someone behind Hollis knocks bodily into them. 

“—Jesus Christ, watch where you’re going–” Hollis gets part way through a grouchy remark, when they accidentally trip into their own row of spray paint cans. They let a deep and agitated groan do the rest of the communication for them. 

A high and friendly voice comes out of the stranger standing behind them. 

“Wha—? Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, here, can I help you with—” 

Hollis turns and comes face to face with the stranger that temporarily put their artistic endeavor for the night on hold, and stops cold.

“Aubrey?” They ask, surprised. 

The stranger behind the dorky sunglasses and oversized red scarf looks taken aback before responding. 

“Huh? What?” She stammers, moving her thick scarf to cover more of her face. “Nope, that’s, uh, not me! I’ll be going, then, see you later—” 

Hollis reaches out to put a firm hand on Aubrey’s shoulder as she moves to walk away. 

“Don’t be weird; I know it’s you, Aubrey.” 

Aubrey pauses her escape, and stands awkwardly in front of the leader of The Hornets. 

Hollis is an inch or so shorter than her, but god if they can’t still be intimidating. Especially when they seem as distinctly displeased as they do now. 

“Ohh-h, hey, Hollis!” Aubrey says, smiling falsely while she feels perspiration form under her layers and layers of clothes. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here… How, uh, how have you been?” Aubrey can’t help it, she’s doing finger guns. 

Hollis’ mouth is pulled into a thin, terse line. 

“Not great, Aubrey, not great,” They say, crossing their arms and adjusting their posture. Hollis’ grimace turns into a sneer. 

“And what about you, hm?” They ask, insincerely. “It’s honestly funny I should see you out here tonight, I assumed you would be out, you know, taking care of the _monster_ that killed my friends?” Hollis leans a little too hard into the word monster, raising their volume in a way they know will make Aubrey squirm. 

“I— Keep your voice down, Hollis—” Aubrey starts, panic showing on her face. 

“Because you _did_ tell me that that’s your job, right? You and all the weird old guys up at that creepy lodge?” Hollis presses. 

“Hollis, that’s not—” Aubrey worriedly tries to get a few words out, but in a dizzying flash, Hollis quickly seems to remember themself, and waves their hands in a placating gesture. 

“Hey, you know, actually, I don’t really wanna know anymore about that bullshit; Not tonight.”

Aubrey feels like she has whiplash. 

“Hollis, I am so, so sorry about what happened to your teammates, but I just want you to—“

Hollis moves their hands like a disgruntled conductor silencing an orchestra. “I said,” they say, “I don’t. Want. To hear about it.”

Aubrey retreats slightly into her cable-knit wool scarf, mentally berating herself for even getting involved in this interaction. 

“I’m— I’m really sorry.” Aubrey says. And that’s all she can say. Seeing the smoldering, grieving look on Hollis’ face makes her feel like she’s sprung a leak somewhere. She knows what they must be going through.

“Yeah,” Hollis says, distantly. “I know.” They look wistful, and, maybe, remorseful, their hands deep in the pockets of their leather jacket. Their usually intense, tracking eyes are fixed on the ground. 

Just when the silence gets to be too much, Hollis speaks up again. 

“So, uh, what’re you here for?” They ask, gesturing to all the people making art on the concrete wall behind them. 

“Oh!” Aubrey says excitedly, suddenly remembering what she came here to do, and feeling relieved to have a different subject to talk about. Her hands fly to the brown mail bag, still hanging at her side.

She clumsily undoes the Velcro on the bag and opens it, revealing what looks to be a huge array of colorful sidewalk chalk. It is charmingly childish, and Aubrey grins, eager to steer her and Hollis’ conversation elsewhere. 

“Ta da!” She says, flicking her wrist in a small flourish. 

Hollis could swear that they saw a few glowing embers erupt out of the air as Aubrey moved her hand, but they don’t mention it. Again; No bullshit tonight. 

“I was going to use these to, uh, draw and destress out here, but honestly, I should probably just go back to the lodge, it’s late” Aubrey says. Conflict and distress pass over her face like rain clouds.

“What—? Aubrey, c’mon,” Hollis protests, suddenly feeling an urge to comfort Aubrey, which they find strange, but don’t question. “Listen, I know you and I have a lot of shit to sort through—” They pinch the bridge of their nose and shut their eyes for a second. God, do they have a lot of shit to sort through. “—but we’re both here to get away from all that; Don’t act like you’re not,” Hollis pauses, and takes a short breath.

“I came here to get away, too, I guess,” they admit, picking up one of their cans of spray paint and giving it a shake. “So, unless you really wanna split, there’s plenty of room for you to make your chalk picture on this wall next to me.” 

For the first time since she arrived here, Aubrey gets a good look at the picture Hollis is making; It’s a crude silhouette, depicting the hornet stitched on every jacket worn by the members of Hollis’ stunt gang. It’s been spray painted in two unaligned layers, one in black and one in harsh, hazard-sign yellow. Looking at it under the light of the ugly halogen lamps makes Aubrey’s eyes unfocus slightly, but she doesn’t mind it. 

With an approving nod to Hollis, Aubrey pulls the sturdy cardboard container out of her bag and starts pulling colors out. 

Orange, yellow, green, peach, and rose, all in gentle pastels that Aubrey lays on the ground and studies briefly. 

She knows exactly what she’s going to draw. 

The next half hour is a blur of creative energy, tired wrists, and an unexpected feeling of comfort and ease while Aubrey, Hollis, and dozens of other townsfolk work tirelessly next to each other, stretching down, down, down the long concrete wall. An unbroken chain of art.

When Aubrey steps away from her fuzzy chalk drawing, she has to hold her breath. 

_Why did I do this?_ She asks herself, suddenly self conscious.

It’s a portrait of Dani. In all the soft angles of her face, and the flyaways in her hair, and her marvelous orange eyes, bright and intense like suns, it’s Dani. 

Aubrey knows she didn’t perfectly capture Dani’s likeness using kids’ sidewalk chalk, while running on negative-three hours of sleep, but something about having drawn her at all, out here, makes Aubrey feels like she’s exposed something personal; Like anyone who sees her next to the portrait will know exactly what’s going on, and with who. 

And what _is_ going on? Aubrey suddenly wonders, drawn into a whirlpool of her heretofore mostly unexplored feelings for Dani. 

Just as she feels like she might die of embarrassment and confusion, Aubrey is snapped out of her internal monologue by Hollis’ sharp voice. 

“Hey, Aubrey?” They ask, waving their hand in front of Aubrey’s face. “Did I lose you there for a minute?” 

“Wha— Oh, gosh, yeah— Yeah, I just spaced out, sorry. Did you ask me something?” 

“It’s fine,” Hollis replies. “I just asked what you were drawing.”

“Oh,” Aubrey turns red again, not quite sure how she wants to respond. “This girl I know.” She decides on, eloquently. 

“Oh, huh,” Hollis responds, with none of the judgement or prying Aubrey was worried about. “She’s cute,” they say, nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” Aubrey agrees, a bit red in the face, but lacking the energy to suppress her feelings anymore tonight. “What’s your drawing of, Hol?” She asks gently, content to shift their focus away from her picture and her crush. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Hollis says, turning their nose up at the nickname. “But, uh,” they continue, a sad and distant look fogging up their eyes. “Mine’s a memorial. For the Hornets.” 

Aubrey examines their picture, and sees that each of the black and yellow stripes of the Hornet logo is actually a name, written in surprisingly precise lettering. 

Her stomach drops, realizing they’re the names of the Hornets that died the other day, at the Little Dipper. 

“Oh, god,” She says quietly, the image of the bloody scene still fresh in her mind. For a few minutes, the world of monsters and danger had been behind the two of them as they worked in a bubble of peaceful creativity. “Hollis…” Her voice trails off. 

“Yeah,” Hollis says, their eyes trained on the ground as they quickly, rhythmically, put their cans of spray paint back in their bag.

Aubrey doesn’t say anything as Hollis slings their backpack over their narrow shoulders and turns on their heel to walk away. 

“Well, it was nice to see you, Aubrey,” they say somewhat flatly, giving a curt wave and starting to walk off. 

“Smell you later,” Aubrey calls, her voice suddenly hoarse. There’s that whiplash again.

“Oh, and, one other thing—” Hollis says, turning around. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do your fucking job, okay?” 

Aubrey swallows, and takes another look at Hollis’ spray paint memorial for their fallen friends. 

“I will,”

Hollis’ features seem tense for a moment, but then a different look passes over their face— Something like contentment, Aubrey thinks; Maybe satisfaction. They nod, and walk off resolutely into the weak, pale pink beginnings of a sunrise. 

\---

After Hollis is out of view, Aubrey notices a new feeling coming over her, like the slow start of a heavy rain. The feeling might want to be called determination, or a renewed sense of purpose, or maybe just fear, but Aubrey refrains from trying too hard to put words to it. She just makes some space for the feeling somewhere under her ribs, and lets the events of the last few hours sink in. 

Absentmindedly, Aubrey allows her gaze to rest on a few other straggling artists, packing up their supplies and getting ready to head out for the night. It looks like Kepler’s First Annual Midnight Art Exhibition was a success. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Then Aubrey and Dani sailed off into the sunset on their hot lesbian yacht and neither of them died like ever."  
> –My friend, who doesn't listen to TAZ, and didn't read this, but still came up with the most bomb ending for any fanfiction ever. Here's to hot lesbian yachts <3


End file.
